


Girl Talk

by fullmetal anime (sunkelles)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Background Dualrivalshipping, Background Het, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Gen, Minor Transmisogyny, POV Second Person, Pre-Het, Quaranfics, Realizing She's Trans, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, pre-transition transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/fullmetal%20anime
Summary: With a little help from N and her Jellicent, Hilda realizes that she's trans. With a little help from Bianca, she knows that's going to be just fine.
Relationships: Bel | Bianca & Touko | Hilda, N | Natural Harmonia Gropius/Touko | Hilda
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	Girl Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a lot of memes about playing as Hilda transing your gender, and I was thinking about trans Pokemon.. and this just kind of happened.
> 
> Also, I'm a cis girl, but I'm taking a stab at writing more trans characters. Let me know if there's anything you feel can be improved. I want to write creatively, respectfully, and responsibly. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fic!

You spend two years scouring the far reaches of the world for N, only to find out that he never left Unova in the first place. You find it funny that you spent years searching the world for him while he spent years searching his home region for himself. 

When you find him, it’s climactic. You’ve always sort of sparkled when you were together, electricity flowing through the air. But it’s also kind of awkward. For better or for worse, N’s always done most of the talking, and a lot of it was fairly stilted. 

N’s not gotten all that much better at interacting with people since the last time that you talked. Apparently his two year journey to find himself hasn’t involved all that much talking to other people. But you make it through the small talk of reintroduction, through your frustration at searching the world for a guy who never left home, and eventually you get onto a new topic. 

“Can you introduce me to your friends?” he asks.

“Uh, sure,” you say, “Bianca’s still living in Nuevma Town. We could fly you there and I could introduce you to her.” Then you’d have to introduce N to your _mom_ . Mom would have assumptions (that’s the guy that you packed it up to another region for, really Hilbert?) and you’re not sure you’re ready to deal with that. You're not really sure you're ready to deal with your mom in general.

“Or, uh,” you say, “Cheren’s living in Aspertia City! You should meet him first!” N sends you a confused look. 

“I was talking about your Pokemon friends,” he says, as if that was somehow obvious, “we’ve never been properly introduced.” 

“Oh,” you say, “I guess you’re right.” You’ve never introduced your Pokemon to other people before, but you’re sure that you can manage it. You throw your first Pokeball and your Serperior comes out. He nudges his nose against your hand. 

“This is my Serperior,” you say, “his name is Ollie.” Ollie stops nudging at your hand, then turns to face the stranger. N smiles at him. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, making eye contact with Ollie. Then he walks towards him and stops in front of the Serperior. Ollie looks at him skeptically for a moment and then hisses. N nods. 

“Yes,” he says, “I can hear you.” Ollie frowns for a moment and then hisses again. 

“I know that it’s weird,” N says. Ollie moves the end of his tail excitedly, like he used to do as a Snivy. 

“He likes you,” you say. You introduce him to the rest of your Pokemon one by one, and then you finally get to your Jellicent. You let her out of her Pokeball and she floats over to you to perch on your head like a hat. You smile as the pink tentacles fall over your face.

“This is my Jellicent,” you say, “her name is Jelly.” N smiles at her. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, taking Jelly’s tentacle to _shake._ Jelly murmurs _Jellicent_ and then N nods. 

“Ah,” he says, nodding, “do you want me to tell Hilbert?” 

“Jellicent,” Jelly responds. N nods again, and you feel your eyebrows furrow. 

“What does she want to tell me?” you ask. 

“Jelly said that he’s a boy,” N says. 

“But Jelly’s pink,” you say slowly, “that’s the female form.” 

“He told me that he’s a boy,” N says, “so I don’t think that matters?” You think about that for a moment. Jelly might be pink, but should that dictate what you call them? Maybe not, if it’s really making them that uncomfortable. Maybe Jelly can be pink and be a “he”. 

“I guess not,” you mutter. You don’t want to be a jerk, but something about that doesn’t feel right. 

“You guess?” N asks. It doesn’t sound passive aggressive, but you can just see him judging you. You glare at him then. 

“Well, it’s a lot to process,” you say, and you can hear your voice crescendoing, “not everyone _gets_ to just change their gender whenever they want.” N tilts his head and looks down at you with wide, confused eyes. He looks a little like a Rowlet. 

“Why not?” he asks. 

“People can’t just-” you feel frustration you can’t name building, “they can’t just- DO THAT!” N just tilts his head a little further. He blinks at you. 

“Why not?” he asks. You feel that frustration brewing inside you like Thundurus is thrashing around in your brain, whipping your feelings up into a hurricane. The only thing that you know is that you’re enraged, red hot anger burning like your Chandelure’s fire blasts. You clench your fist and try to take a deep breath. 

“Are you angry?” N asks cautiously. You take another deep breath, answering the question with a nod of your head. You close your eyes and take a few more deep breaths, allowing the darkness to sap away some of your feelings. Then, you feel your breathing steady and a bit of your anger dissipates. It’s still there, but it’s manageable now. You’re just mad instead of seething now. 

“Are you okay now?” N asks. 

“I guess,” you say. You can think clearly again, at least. You reach onto your head and give Jelly a comforting pat. 

“I’m sorry, buddy,” you tell him, “if you’re a boy, I guess you’re a boy.” The idea still makes you angry for some reason, but Jelly lets out a happy little cry and starts rubbing tapping you excitedly on the shoulder with its tentacles. N smiles. 

“I’m glad that you’re feeling alright again.” Then, he gestures to the Pokeballs on his belt.  
  
“Would you like to meet _my_ friends?” he asks. You don’t even hesitate before saying yes. You spend the rest of the day hanging out with N, getting to know each other and your Pokemon. You’re both, frankly, awkward communicators- better with Pokemon than people. But you make it work, and there’s some sort of spark running between the two of you, with or without the Pokemon. 

When he smiles at you, it makes you feel, well. _Something_. Something that you’ve never felt before. 

You’re not the best at calling people, but you think you can make an exception for him. You really like talking to N. 

You spend the next couple of days trying to identify _why_ it made you so angry that Jelly wanted you to call him a boy. It kind of feels you’re picking at an open wound, but anything that makes you _that_ mad is worth investigating. 

You don’t think that it’s really that you think that Jelly shouldn’t be a boy. You’ve switched pronouns easily enough, and it makes you smile to see the excited way that Jelly flaps his tentacles every time that you call him “he”. There’s just something in it that seems unfair to the rest of the world. How come it’s so easy for the world to shift around Jelly and no one else? 

“Do any of my other Pokemon use different pronouns?” you ask. 

“No,” N says. 

“Did you ask?” 

“I think that they would have told me,” N says, “it was the first thing that Jellicent told me when he realized I could understand him. I’m sure the others would have told me if they felt that way.” 

“I guess you’re right,” you say. If it was that important, they _would_ have told the guy that could fully understand them. At least, you think that they would have. There’s still something that doesn’t sit quite right with you, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. 

“What did you learn?” he asks, eyes glittering with curiosity. You feel yourself start to smile, and part of your anxiety melts away. 

“I guess I could tell you about it,” you say. He smiles, and you dive into a happier conversation instead. 

You spend a few days getting to know each other, and the thing about Jelly never leaves the corner of your mind. You want your Jellicent to be happy, but there’s something that just feels a little off about it. 

If they could live a life that makes them feel better, then they should get to do that. You wouldn’t wish being a boy on anyone. 

You’ve always just sort of gone with what people said your gender was. People said that you were a boy, so that meant that you were a boy. Maybe that isn’t the way that things are after all. 

You stare at your Xtransciever. You’re not great at calling people, and you really never have been. You’ve spent your life waiting for friends and family to call you first and then letting them talk at you on the other end of the line, but you decide that it has to be done. You dial Bianca’s number. Thankfully for your anxiety, she picks up quickly. 

“Bianca,” you say. 

“You haven’t answered any of my messages in weeks,” Bianca says instead of “hello” or “how are you”. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I just get caught up in things.” 

“Hils, I know that,” she says, “like, I’ve met you. But that doesn’t mean you can just curl up in your little hole and not talk to anyone.” 

“I’m trying to get better about that,” you say, “see? I’m calling first this time!” Bianca sighs. 

“I guess that’s progress,” she says. You take a deep breath. Then another deep breath. Then another, just for good measure. 

“Could I ask you something?” you finally manage to say. 

“Of course,” Bianca says.

“Would you be mad if I, uh,” you get stuck on this part, and whatever you were going to say dies on your lips. 

“I don’t know what you’re going to ask,” Bianca says, “but I probably won’t be mad.” 

“How could you know that?” you ask nervously. 

“Well, I’m not even mad that you’ve never called me first in two years of traveling the world,” Bianca says, “just a little irritated. I think that whatever it is probably won’t change that.” That _is_ a good point. If Bianca hasn’t gotten sick of your Bidoof droppings yet, then she probably won’t seismic toss you out of her life over this. 

_Probably._

But the confession feels like it’s eating away at the lining of your stomach, and really. Shouldn’t you do this in person? Whatever it is? Maybe you’re just anxious and want to put it off longer, but you can’t seem to make the words come out of your stupid face. 

“I don’t think I can do this over the phone,” you say, “can I fly over and visit?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Bianca says, “of course. I haven’t gotten a hug in two years.” Bianca pauses a moment. 

“When are you thinking? 

“I’m up by victory road, so probably three hours?” you say. 

“Oh,” Bianca says, “you mean today?” 

“If that’s alright, yeah,” you say. You have a _lot_ of feelings right now, and you’d like to talk to your best friend about whatever this is. Bianca giggles. 

“Alright then,” she says, “see you in a few hours! And I am holding you to that, Hils.” She hangs up the phone, and then. You’re contractually obligated to fly to Nuvema Town. And then talk to not only Bianca, but your mom. 

Oof. Maybe you should have thought that one through a little longer. But now you've committed, and you really don't have any choice. You release Braviary from his Pokeball, and you fly yourself there anyway. 

  
  


Braviary drops you gently in front of Bianca’s house, and you take a moment to wrap your arms around him in a firm hug before you recall him back to your Pokeball. 

Bianca’s house looks nearly the same as it did two years ago, except the white siding has started to yellow. 

You turn your head, and glance up at the oak tree obscuring part of the house. You and Bianca used to climb that tree all the way to the top just to sit up there, talking about which Pokemon you were going to catch as soon as you could- all your dreams of becoming the world’s top Pokemon trainers together. But here you are, the Unova champion with no communication skills, and Bianca’s working to become a Pokemon professor. 

You tear your eyes away from the tree and walk up to the house. You knock.

“Come in,” Bianca says, opening the door and ushering you up to her room, “the folks are both gone now, but it’s better safe than sorry, right?” You think that Bianca’s right on that one. Your mother would kill you if she found out that you talked to Bianca’s parents before her. 

You take your normal spot in her Munna bean bag chair by her desk, and Bianca sits down on her bed. She puts her elbows on her knees, and then leans her face onto her hands. 

“So,” she says, “what did you want to talk about?”

“I don’t really know where to start,” you say. The feeling is still nebulous- honestly, you’re still kind of working through it. But you know that it’s big. 

“The beginning’s always good,” she says. You tell her about how you went searching for N, and how when you finally found him he hadn't even left the region. Then you tell her about the days that you've spent with him. She giggles, and smiles- asks you if you’ve got a boyfriend now. You feel yourself blushing, and okay. Maybe that’s on the table, too. But that’s not really what this is about. 

You shift the topic back to Jelly and that whole deal, and how weirdly angry it made you. 

“Why would you be mad that Jelly wants to be called him?” Bianca says, “that doesn’t feel like an issue.” You fall back into the beanbag chair, and you stare up at the ceiling. There’s little cracks in the material that remind you a bit of the lighting that Zekrom shot out when N first called on them. 

“Do you remember when we were really little,” you say, “and I used to come over for dress up parties. I’d wear your extra princess dress, let you do my hair however you wanted.” You smile, thinking about how cute the pictures that Bianca’s mom took of you two looked. Your mother always said that they’d be good blackmail material, someday, but- 

It wasn’t ever shameful, especially not if your mother didn’t make you feel ashamed. 

“Of course,” Bianca says, “you were always the best at sitting still. No one else would have let me do their nails and makeup.” You’re not looking at her, but you can hear the soft smile in her voice. 

“You were always so indulgent, Hils. I really appreciated that.” 

“I wasn’t being indulgent,” you say, balling your hand into a little fist and rubbing your thumb over your knuckles. 

“I always- I just,” you say, “I wanted to be that “girl friend” that you always wanted.” 

“Oh Hils,” Bianca says, sounding regretful, “I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t good enough. You’re my best friend. The wanting a girl friend thing- it was just when you grew out of the makeup and dresses and stuff. I thought that it would be fun. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t good enough.” 

“It’s not that,” you say, “it wasn’t just because you wanted a friend who was a girl or anything. It’s just- being a girl. That- it felt right. I liked all the girl stuff.” You’d always felt so at home in Bianca’s room in a way you didn’t in yours. Maybe it’s just the light pastels of the room, the Munna beanbag chair, the Jigglypuff themed desk. Or maybe it’s the fairy type Pokemon bedspread. 

“You did?” Bianca asks. 

“Yeah,” you say, “I was really sad when my mom told me I should stop letting you dress me up.” It made you feel like you’d lost something vital, when everyone told you that you couldn’t do that anymore. It wasn’t cute for a boy your age to dress up anymore. You were supposed to grow out of it. 

Everyone always told you that boys weren’t supposed to like things like that, and that you were supposed to be nice to girls but not get wrapped up in their nonsense, and be indulgent of them but better than the. You can like them, but don’t _be_ like them. Girls are girls and boys are boys, and boys like boy things but they like kissing girls. 

You think about N, and the way that he makes your heart stop. You weren’t supposed to like boys either, but you think you’ve done a bang-up job at all those things you were “supposed” to do. 

“I’m great with Pokemon,” you say, “but I suck at being a boy.”

“You don't suck at being a boy. You just- you like boys, and you like wearing dresses. That’s _fine_ .” Bianca takes your hand, and she squeezes, “no one else gets to tell you what you get to be. Boys can like whatever they want.” You bite your lip, softly. You know that boys _can_ like these things. There are boys who like makeup and dresses, and boys who like kissing boys and looking fantastic while they do it. You can still be Hilbert the boy, Champion of the Unova Region and wear a pretty dress and kiss a pretty boy. 

But that isn’t really what you _want._

“But what if I'm- what if I'm like Jelly?” you ask. You feel fragile and frightened the moment the words leave your lips, but Bianca just squeezes. 

"You mean," Bianca's eyes widen for a moment, "oh- I- I get it, I think. I guess you're a girl?" You nod. Then, she rolls over on top of you and engulfs you in one of her bear hugs. 

“You seem happy?” you ask.

“Why shouldn’t I be happy?” Bianca asks, “I always said I wanted a best girl friend. Turns out I had one all along.” You feel the smile cross your lips, and this time, you hug her. As tightly as you can, holding her close to your chest. She’s your best friend, and nothing will change that. No pronouns, no fuckups where you forget how to talk to a person or that it’s expected to sometimes call your friends- no anything. 

Bianca’s always going to be there for you- no matter what. But then, reality slots itself back into place. Bianca isn’t the only person in the world, and there’s still so many people to talk to- 

“I should call N and let him know where I’ve gone, and oh god- I haven’t even _talked_ to Cheren, and I have to go see my mom-” You feel the anxiety build and build and bui-

“Take a deep breath,” Bianca says, squeezing your hand firmly, “you can handle that later. First, let’s go have a cup of tea and have some girl talk. We still have catching up to do.” There _is_ lots that you haven’t been able to talk about yet- the search for N, whatever all those feelings are, all the new Pokemon that you’ve befriended since the last time that you saw her. Then, you’re sure that Bianca has tons of new stories from work. 

“Alright,” you say, feeling the panic inside you quell a little, just to a dull hum in the background, “let’s talk.” Bianca gets up off her bed and you follow her down the stairs to the kitchen table. You sit down, and she grabs a kettle and starts some water for tea. You take a deep breath. 

No matter what happens when you leave, no matter how everyone else reacts- Bianca has your back. _But what about everyone else?_ you think, a little frantically. N was supportive of Jelly, which means that he’ll probably respond the same way to you. 

“Have you heard from Cheren recently?” you ask. 

“Cheren’s settling into his gym leader job nicely,” she says, moving walking away from the stove and opening up one of the tall cabinets, “he’s kind of mad that he can’t go full out against kids who are just starting out, though.” You feel yourself smile as Bianca grabs two mugs out of the cabinet and sets them on the counter.

“Sounds like him,”you say, “he _would_ want to stomp someone’s poor Tepig into submission with his Stoutland.” Then she grabs a box of green tea and drops a tea bag into each mug. She turns around and grins at you.

“Oh give him a little more credit,” she says, “he’d use his _Emboar_.” Your laugh at that comes out as a roar.

“You know, he's really been missing fighting with Emboar,” Bianca says, “he gets to pull out his Stoutland and Unfeazant sometimes, but he doesn’t get to use the others much at all anymore.” 

“Have you talked to him recently?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I-” Bianca turns her head, and sees steam coming from the top of the kettle. Her eyes widen, and she grabs the mugs and rushes over to pour the tea. Then she turns off the burner and leaves the bags to sit. 

“What was I saying?” she asks. 

“Talking to Cheren.” 

“Oh yes!” Bianca says, and she blushes a little, “we talk- we talk basically every day.” 

“Every day?” you ask. 

“Uh, yeah,” Bianca says, “we wouldn’t want to miss anything, right?” That’s when you realize what that blush combined with that answer means: your best friends started _dating._ You don’t entirely know what to do with that. 

“He’s been missing you too,” Bianca says. 

“Well,” you say, “if you guys talk every day, we could call him?” Bianca shakes her head. 

“No,” she says, “he’d want to see you in person. Actually, I haven’t made it his way to visit for a while either.” Her face lights up as she gets her idea. 

“We should go visit him together! Then we can all catch up.” You think that probably would be better than a phone call, and certainly better than just going by yourself. You love Cheren, but things are always much more _fun_ when you’re all together. Maybe it was because Cheren didn’t join the mix until later. He was a welcome change to the dynamic, but he _was_ a change. And changes can be scary. They certainly disrupt things. 

Bianca hurries over to the mugs and takes out her teabag, placing it on her teabag holder. 

“Come check your tea,” Bianca says. You get up and walk over, glancing at the liquid in the mug. It’s a warm, reddish brown, still more clear than colored. It’s dark enough for you, for sure. You take a sip, and you see Bianca taking out the sugar to pour into her own cup. 

“I know you don’t want sugar, so I won’t offer,” she says. 

“ _I_ like my tea and coffee as black as my soul,” you say. 

“You can’t call your tea black when it’s barely tan,” she says, rolling her eyes, “ _Cheren_ likes his black. You know he’ll leave the teabag in for so long that the water starts to get cold.” You _didn’t_ know that about him, actually. The last time you had tea with Cheren he still liked it about the same color as you do. 

There must be a lot that you don’t know about him anymore. You lean against the counter and take a sip of your tea. 

“Maybe I can kick his ass, just to prove I can beat all the gym leaders,” you say. 

“Hils!” Bianca screeches, stirring in her six spoonfuls of sugar, “that’s not very nice.” 

“I’d be the first person who’d give him a real challenge,” you say, “he could take out his real team before he gets crushed.” Bianca shakes her head, and then takes a sip of her tea. She closes the gap between you, and leans up against the counter right beside you. 

“You two can be _so_ competitive,” Bianca says, setting her mug behind her, “I’m glad I got out of that trainer stuff.” 

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask. Even while you were tearing the world apart searching for N, you were still battling. You don’t love anything more than you love your Pokemon and the way you can battle with them. 

“Arceus no,” Bianca says, “battling stressed me out.” She picks up her mug then and takes a big, long swig. Then, she keeps holding the mug between her hands. 

“It stressed you out?” you ask. 

“I always had to worry about being the best,” she says, “and trying to make sure that my Pokemon didn’t get hurt and- I don’t know. I just didn’t like it. Now, I get to learn as much as I want and I don’t have to worry about _winning_ all the time.” Whenever the three of you had competitions as kids, Bianca always wanted to sit out. She didn’t like getting in the middle of you and Cheren duking it out. You two could cause a bit of a war zone, when you really got going. 

“I guess that makes sense,” you say. Maybe you wouldn’t be quite so keen on battling if you weren’t a prodigy. Battling has always been something that just made sense to you, a part of your life where you could kind of just melt into the heat of the moment with only your strategy and your Pokemon by your side. 

Bianca takes a sip. You take a sip in response. Bianca takes a sip, and you take a sip. It seems like she’s trying to get you to start talking first, but you’ve always been better at avoidance (you _were_ the friend who didn’t call first for two years) so you’re sure you can wait her out. You take another long drink, and Bianca rolls her eyes as she takes the mug from her lips, accepting defeat. 

“So,” Bianca says, “since you’re a girl, are you thinking you might change your name?” 

“I guess so,” you say, “I don’t really have any ideas, but there has to be something that sucks less than _Hilbert_.” Bianca takes another sip, but this time she looks contemplative. 

“Do _you_ have any ideas?” you ask. You’d probably trust Bianca’s taste in names. You trust her taste in pretty much everything else. 

“I always thought that if you had a twin sister, she’d be named Hilda, since that’s the girl version of Hilbert,” Bianca says, “I think that could be nice.” 

“Then Hils would still work,” you say. 

“Well, Hils wouldn’t go anywhere no matter what you changed it to,” Bianca says, “Hils is _you_.” You’d say that sounds a bit over-dramatic, but Bianca’s not wrong, exactly. You’ve always liked that nickname she gave you better than anything else. You even took to using it as your name when you met people out of region. 

“I guess you’re right,” you say, “but if I went with Hilda, then it would be easy to explain the nickname. Plus, I think I like it.” There’s something warm to that name you think. Something kind of cozy. You could imagine getting used to hearing it. 

“It is nice,” Bianca says, “but who would have doubted that. _I_ came up with it.” You let yourself melt into the conversation, joking back and forth with Bianca and learning all about what’s happened in the past few years. Things might be scary right now, but you think that you’ll be alright. 

You’re still Hils, she’s still Bianca, and maybe that’s all you need right now. Just a little girl talk.

**Author's Note:**

> Here come the social distancing to avoid spreading COVID19 fics, guys.


End file.
